


Jack's desk

by o0Anapher0o



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Humor, POV Outsider, Phynes corner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 17:23:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18298778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0Anapher0o/pseuds/o0Anapher0o
Summary: Phryne's and Jack's relationship seen through the eyes (or keyholes) of a not quite objective observer.





	Jack's desk

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo this is the first piece of writing I publish since about sixth grade, so there are no words for how nervous I am. This seems like a really nice fandom though, which helps being brave :-)   
> Unbetad, appologies for all and any mistakes.   
> The idea for this fic came partly from reading Advocaats 'Musings of a Sofa' over on FF.net (different fandom though) and this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZb_OOKhJmc&pbjreload=10 lovely video.   
> All characters and events are taken from Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries and do not belong to me. Except for the second whiskey bottle.

The first time Miss Fisher planted herself on Inspector Robinsons desk, the desk was outraged. After all there was a perfectly acceptable chair right in front of it specifically meant for visitors.   
Its outrage only grew when she brought out a picnic basket. The Inspector having lunch at his desk when there was much work to do was one thing, but this… it was simply not used to this kind of frivolity. Inspector Robinson’s desk was a serious desk. A serious desk for a serious man. Well, there was hoping this would be a one off thing.  
Except, of course, she kept coming back. And she kept sitting herself on the desk. 

Having been the desk of not only one but three Senior Detective Inspectors of the Melbourne Police Inspector Robinson’s desk had seen its share of outrageous visitors and behaviour. Blatant liars and drunks, indignant outrage and tears, both real and poorly acted; its previous owner had even been punched in the face by one of his interviewees once. Those incidents had become more and more rare, as Inspector Robinson was a very cautious and collected man who usually seemed to have a calming effect on people. But he also was stern and intelligent enough so most suspects didn’t try anything stupid. The point however was that all these visitors had been safely set in the chair in front of the desk. The only person who had so far ever perched themselves on the desk had been the Inspector himself and even that was the exception. Miss Fisher on the other hand seemed to prefer the desk to the chair. At least that thought was vaguely flattering. 

Originally the desk had wondered why the Inspector allowed her to keep doing that and never told her to take her appropriate place but with time it came to appreciate her, too. She always wore exquisite clothes the likes of which the desk had never felt before. It particularly liked her furs that caressed its surface in a way it could have never imagined. And the Inspector clearly liked her and usually his mood would lift when she sat there.   
If the desk was one thing, it was loyal to its owner. You had to be when you were a desk. A desk was the keeper of secrets, from the secret stash of biscuits, the whiskey bottle in the bottom drawer, to the folder hidden away under the daily paperwork that it knew contained photographs of Miss Fisher. The ones that Constable Collins had taken of her the day she brought the first picnic basket. Photos that, should they be found, would certainly cause the Inspector a great deal of embarrassment. So loyalty was important. And loyalty for the desk also meant to appreciate the people its owner liked and who helped him. Like Miss Fisher. 

And then suddenly she stopped coming. For months at that point she had been coming in almost every other day, hopped on the corner next to the Inspector and stayed there at least for a few minutes while they talked about a case, a witness or just gossiped about Constable Collins and Miss Williams. Yes, they had also argued, sometimes heatedly but in the end it had always led to an arrest and she had come back for the next case. And then she stopped. After a few days the desk began to worry. Especially because at the same time the whiskey bottle, the one that had been in the bottom drawer nearly untouched for months was suddenly gone, replaced by a veritable parade of new ones who came and went too quickly to even get to know them properly. The Inspector started to stay in late again and was mostly grumpy throughout the whole day.   
In that light the desk couldn’t help being relieved when Miss Fisher swept through the office door one day once again. It would have never admitted it, but it had been worried something might have happened to her. That would have certainly explained the Inspector’s behaviour. Now that that had turned out not to be the case, the desk wasn’t quite sure what to make of her absence. But whatever had caused it, it seemed to be dealt with and things reverted to normal again. The new whiskey bottle in the bottom draw was a nice chap and he settled in for a long stay. 

Although it seemed like everything was back to the way it had been it was undeniable that something was changing. The desk wasn’t quite sure when or how it had happened. It could have been before the Inspector’s wife (no, former wife, the desk had guarded the divorce papers long enough to know that) had spend half the night in his office crying, while the Inspector hid very well that he was shaking himself by holding on to his desk. It wasn’t sure what had happened, they didn’t talk about it, but it was glad it could provide some comfort.   
After that night things had definitely changed. Not so much one would instantly notice, but the desk by now was very familiar with their interactions. And it did notice the new set of ties the Inspector was suddenly sporting and the way he would straighten them out before leaving the office in the evening, using the glass door as a mirror. 

The desk wasn’t fond of spiders either. For it they were linked to storage cabinets, dust and long periods of being out of use. It liked being useful and it didn’t like the feeling of many little legs and sticky threads on its surfaces or in its drawers. It was glad the ‘evidence’ was securely enclosed in a jar, but it couldn’t fault Miss Fisher’s disgust with it. The woman had reasonable opinions and this was no exception in its mind. It realised it had grown to like her, even beyond the Inspector’s obvious infatuation with her.   
That was why it didn’t worry when the Inspector disappeared a short time after. Miss Fisher was away as well, so the desk was fairly certain they were alright and probably together somewhere.


End file.
